Thursday, March 31, 2005

Some where over the Rainbow, Way up high,There's a land that I heard ofOnce in a lullabyIf happy little bluebirds flyBeyond the rainbow.Why, oh why can't I?

That is the first line and last line ofSomewhere over the Rainbow...

Today, it finally ends. And hopefully the mediawill take their 3 ring circus some where else andlet the people at the Hospice Center have peaceand quiet, they deserved.

For Terri, it has ended. To be trapped insidea body for 15 years. Now she is free. Only onecan make decisions for her. And I trust himmore than any earth bound person. He willhave her whole and happy....And the other people left behind? He willtake care of you all too... He will judge, not I.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

What tunes do you tap your feet to? What tunes from the past that makeyou crank up the volume? Yesterdayas I was running errands a couple came on thru the day, that I crankedup the radio. Yes, even 64+ year old crankup the radio. And sing with it.But only by myself... especiallyafter my then 10 year old grandson told me not to giveup my day job. The songs, that I heard yesterdaywas Proud Mary, Heard it on the Grapevine, and Johnny B. Good.And what is that song that was inTom Cruises movie.. give me that old rock and roll? Which is kind offunny, because when I use to dancemany many years ago to those tunesI was a dyed in the wool Johnny Cashfan. And when I am home alone, doing house work, I play IN THE NAVY, by the Village people.When I am in trouble, Amazing Grace is hummed...lot of times with out me knowing I am, until I get halfway thru...So what tunes, get your toestapping? What makes youcrank up the volume?

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

As many of you know, I worked in a nursing home.A few years ago, I was getting a gentleman up for the day.He wasn't thrilled as it was 5:30am. So I told him I understoodcompletely. I told him this:Yes, Ray, I can understand why you aren't happy about this.You see when I was a little girl, my mother would wake me up really early so I could do chores before I got ready for school.As the school time went by, I could not wait until I gradutatedfrom school, so I could sleep in.... But when I graduated fromschool, I had to earn an living. So I had to get up early to go tomy job. So I thought I can't wait until I get married, so I can sleep in.... Well, I got married.... but I had a lot of kids... sothere was no sleeping in.... So I dreamt of the day when allmy kids would get thru school and on their own, so I could sleep in...... Well, then my husband passed away and I had to get a job. So I could not sleep in... And do you know what upsets me now, Ray? He said no... I said.. what upsets me now is.... I figured when I retired and was old, I could sleepin..... but now I know I will probably will end up in a nursing home, and some young person is going to come in andsay...... time to get up, Cis...AND I STILL WON'T BE ABLE TO SLEEP IN.......He thought that was funny.... I'm not so sure I think it is funny.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Today, I went for my usual walk... but only got down the road about 4 blocks and had to turn around. Water, water, everywhere.McGhee Road was just about flooded over. So turn around anddecided to just walk my little town. As I was going downRailroad street which is the frontage road that runs along side the Highway 200, I could see where some one took flying lesson and flunk. They hit the ditch just East ofHumbird Street, heading west coming off unintentially,Highway 200. Then it appears that they flew over thestreet itself and landed in the ditch on the west side ofHumbird Street. By the large clumps of mud, I would say the vehicle wasn't able to fly anymore and need the assistance of a tow truck.On my walk up and down the town, and heading home, it came to my attention, that the good real estate people,with their great imagination, will have our taxes raising up fast. Because any place in town will be listed as...Waterfront property. See there is water raising up in ourditches, and there is water in the alleys. And back yardsfor some...but we locals are use to this. Anybody gottheir arks out yet? No? Well, then it is a mild year.

Friday, March 25, 2005

In 1982, we had decided to leave R.I. Marvin had another bypass operation. And he wasn’t doing any better. He tried walking for miles in hopes to improve the circulation. To no avail. Plus the weather was raising cain with him. 2 to 3 days before there was rain, his veins felt like they were on fire. While my folks thought this was wonderful, because they would know whether to mow their hay or not, they understood we had to move back West.So we sold our home.. Marvin had taken the 63 Chevy out to Idaho on a previous trip. As he did the GMC which he towed behind him, a 1940 Pontiac, which we had acquired. We bought a school bus from the Catholic church. We had the Ford pickup tow a 65 Mustang that one of our sons had bought. Our friend Wayne, from Priest River flew out to help us drive back. Marvin drove the bus, and our friend Wayne was his alternate. A young man, Tim, we had befriended in our neighborhood, wanted to relocate and get a fresh start. So he drove the Ford pickup and I was his alternate.. It was the beginning of Oct. So we wanted to drive straight thru with a stop in Minnesota to see Marv’s family and a quick rest before we continued. We wanted to beat the weather, and get the kids back into school We had removed all the seats but 3 on one side and 2 on the other. The 3, we had one facing forward, then the other two faced each other, booth style. Behind the 2 we had an apt. size refrigerator. Why, I don’t know. But when we got ready to pull out, I had 3 loaves of frozen bread in the freezer dept. We had it plugged in until the morning we left. Then we put 3 bags of ice in the refrigerator and shut the door. Behind this was all our worldly possessions, stacked up to within inches of the roof.We drove out of the driveway, waving to my father at 8 am. Ironically the Willie Nelson song, On the Road Again, was playing on the radio. We headed out of R.I. into Mass. About 5 p.m. we are driving thru New York when I noticed the refrigerator door slightly open. I went to see what was going on. I open the door to a massive white goo. It looked like the blob from a 50’s movie. It was the frozen bread, that had thawed and was rising for lack of a better word. We had decided to stop at the next rest stop. Which I got out the camp stove, cast iron kettle, and oil, and proceeded to cook friend bread. It took over a hour just to fry up that stuff. 3 loaves, made over 50 donut size fried bread. We drove night and day. Wayne with the bus and myself in the pickup at night. We were doing fine. Went thru Chicago at about 3:30 am. Which is a good time to go thru. We came into Wisconsin town of Janesville at 6am. Because Marvin was worried about going thru Chicago, he was tired. So we decided to find the first rest area in Wisconsin and rest. We slept until about 11 pm. Even the kids. Then headed out again. It was getting dark as we were coming near the Minnesota border. We were heading north. We came to an area that was like San Francisco. Up and down hills on a 2 lane highway. At which time the pickups lights decided to take turns turning off and on. I would go a mile or so and then the road was pitch dark. And then the lights would come back on about 3 minutes later, and then go out a mile or so down the road again. It seemed to me like it was always as I was getting ready to head down over the hill, that the lights went out. After about 5 miles I couldn’t take it any longer and called on the cb to have Wayne find the nearest wide spot in the road and pull over. He thought when the lights went out, I had fell behind and was behind the hill. Marvin said it had something to do with the high beam switch. So he direct wired it and said it would be ok, just on low beams. Oh, fun. We went into Minnesota, arriving at his brother’s house at 7am. The next day we left, heading into North Dakota. Some where hear the Painted Hills, early in into the evening, I blew a tire and took out my brakes. I limped over to the side, and called the bus. They had to back down a mile to get to us. Got the tire fixed and drove into the rest area that was a mile down the road. The men worked on the brake line. The kids and I went and looked at the Painted Canyon. It was the most beautiful scene. I believe it is the Roosevelt park. The colors in the rocks were awesome. Back on the road, with Wayne and I back behind the wheel, we made it thru North Dakota fine. When we got to the Montana border we had switched drivers. They drove all day thru Montana, I was sleeping on the bus on the floor and Wayne in the front seat. At about 6 p.m. I heard Tim say on the cb, aren’t we out of Montana yet? He couldn’t believe how long it was. We switched drivers again. We were driving thru the mountains and there was snow on the sides. It was really hilly and Wayne was down in compound low with the bus trying to get over, and then we would head down the hill and back up. As we were cresting one of the hills, he said, I am going to give it hell going down so I can have enough speed to go up the next one. Which he did, except it wasn’t as tall going up and soon we were going down again. This time way faster than we expected. I looked in the mirror and the Mustang is trying to pass me. I can remember telling myself, don’t touch the brake, don’t touch the brake, you will jack knife this thing. So I just push the gas a little until the Mustang disappeared and let the engine slow the rigs down. As we were approaching the bottom, I told the guys, 10-100… which to all you young people who were not around during the cb days, that mean bathroom break. Wayne got out of the bus, and Marvin was quite awake. I guess as we came flying over the hill, Wayne had said OH, SH_T, which immediately woke up Marvin. We started out again, crossing the Idaho border at sunrise. We stopped so we could take a picture of the kids and the guys at the Welcome to Idaho, sign. Pulled in to Vay, just outside of Priest River, about noon. All safe and sound and only one flat tire in this trip. . Not bad for driving across America……. Twice..

Thursday, March 24, 2005

In the fall of 1978, We had decided to move from Ellensburg, Washington to Rhode Island. My husband at the time Marvin (he passed away in 1986) had been operated on. He had his second series of bypasses. The Dr. at that time, in the Vancouver Vet's hospital had told us that there wasn't anything else that could be done for Marvin, that was the last operation for him. (which turn out not to be true, but that is another story) So we decided to sell our place in Ellensburg and go to Rhode Island. A two-fold idea. One being if anything happen to Marvin, I would be near my family. Second one, my folks were getting up in age and we could be of help to them.Marvin built two trailers. One out of a pick up bed. And the other one was a 20 foot that he built from scratch. It had plywood sides to it. My brother came out from R.I. to help with the driving. So we had a caravan. Marvin, driving an older GMC truck with a box bed. The kind that have cabinets and shelves on the side and the bed being empty with a lid. In there he had his welder and every part he could think of that we may need to replace on our trip. Fan belts, batteries, fuel and water pumps. Marvin was an expert at this as he had moved from Minnesota to Washington state quite a few years before. He towed the long trailer. Which had all of Marvin tools, tool boxes, (4 of them) steel in case he had to weld something, and every thing he could put in there that came from his garage and the beds. You will see in a minute or so how fool hardy this became, kind of. Next was our 72 Ford 3/4 ton pick up and towing the small trailer. Which, both, contain all the house hold things. In the very front of the pickup bed was Marvin guns. Being a Patrick McManus type man, (hunter and fishing) he had many.. I mean many... Being my R.I. brother who never had a gun in his life, was driving this vehicle, he was glad the guns were way back there. Next bringing up the rear...Me..driving our 63 Chevie convertible. With the kids. The ones that weren't in the other two vehicles. Why would we take a 63 car across the country? One, because it was in good working order and mostly because this car had been promised to our youngest since we had bought in 1972. So we pull out of Ellensburg at about 8am. The trip was going fairly well, ha ha... seems that we had to wait up on the top of the far side of Vanatage for a half an hour for Marvin to drive up the hill. I think he was going the top speed of 15 mph. He found out that the trailer was quite heavy. And it swayed... So we pulled into George, Washington. They sent us to a gas station in Moses Lake. To buy a sway bar.That took out that problem and we were off on our way again. We reached the Idaho border at about 10 p.m. We had stopped for gas, and were going to spend the night with friends in Vay area near Priest River. We had pulled away from the gas station about a mile. And BAM!!. The large trailer not only blew a tire, but broke the axle.. (remember the garage stuff?) . The long and short of this is, the boys, (ours) Marvin, my brother Roy, and our friend who we called, worked on it all night long. They got it jacked up, welded and on the road again by 2 am. I had taken the rest of the kids to our friend's house. We slept until 7am. Got up and was back on the road again. My brother got broke into Idaho living. Our friends hadn't gotten their house finished yet so they had a outhouse. So my brother was surprise when he asked for the bathroom, and then bowled over with my friend (who has a wicked sense of humor) as he asked my brother a question. He asked my brother, do you go to bathroom in your house? How weird, we don't like to do that here, so we have ours outside. The look on my brother's face, was a riot. Anyway we went from Idaho, thru Montana, North Dakota, blowing a tire per state, .....yep, on the large trailer. Going thru North Dakota was fun, as it had its usual weather... thunderstorms and pouring rain. In North Dakota there is a town called Jamestown. My brother lived in Jamestown R.I. and there is a giant buffalo in that town. I made him stop and get out of the truck and go stand under the buffalo. Told him I would tell all his friend he had this great opportunity and blew it just because of a little rain storm. Ah, the power of an older sister. ha ha...We went into Minnesota to see Marvin's family and rest for one day. As our sleeping had been on the lawn of rest areas while the kids slept in the vehicles. Our diet consisted of eggs and cereal for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch. (peanut butter and jelly and spam were the choices). So stopping was great for everyone. Showers, good food and rest in beds or on the floor. To our surprise, when we woke the next morning, my mother in law brought in her paper and there was a picture of our GMC. I forgot to mention, that the hunter Marvin had put his prize Washington Elk horns (14 pionts) on the top of the cab in front of the truck bed wall. With the title of family on the move or something like that. We left Minnesota and cut across Wisconsin and stopped at a McDonald's before crossing over into Chicago, Illinois. At the parking lot a gentleman came over to see the elk horns and talked to us. As we were getting ready to pull out, he said. "watch out, if you break down, keep driving until you can pull into a gas station as they are wicked over there, they will strip your vehicle and things before you can find help." Of which my brother's eyes widen. We made it thru there and of course once in that area, you go thru toll booths after toll booths until we got to Mass. Luckily we only had a short (2 hours) to go thru Mass. And my brother was sweatting bullets. Remember Mass has a very tough gun law. Automatic in jail for a year with any guns, if Mass isn't notified they are in your possession and the where abouts of them. We pulled into Jamestown R.I. on a sunny morning. We had blown over 8 tires on the large trailer. And to this day, my brother refers to it as the Peanut Butter and Jelly run. next time... I will tell you of the run back across when we left R.I. almost 4 years later.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Well, I made it thru my walk inspite of the wind.. and surprisingly I came back not like what did the cat bring... but I came back stong. Maybe I am getting the hang of this.]Last year I had some breathing problems, and this has really helped. I just suggest you start out slow.Well, I am off to my pre-65 year physical today. He is a great doctor, because he puts up with Dr. Cis and doesn't sue me for malpractice.I was looking thru my files on my floppys last night. Came across this one, I wrote about 2 years ago.... as I found it to be humors...I called it my $48 heel. But you will see at the end, it cost more.

Let me tell you some money saving information. Keep in mind this will save you $48.00. I didn't get this from a home remedy book or column. Or even e-mail ..this is bona fide medical information from a doctor of 45+ years of practice. Hence, the $48.00. Oh, insurance doesn't cover this...so this is out of pocket$$.Lets go back to the 4th of July time. I noticed my heel area of my foot was hurting. I thought I had bruise my heel on a rock as I like to go barefooted. I had smashed my finger about that time (that is another story) and the finger out weighed my foot on the pain level. So just endure the foot as an nuance. By the time I had gotten over the finger (3weeks later) the foot was starting to irritate me. Being I have a large mass in front of me, that prevents me from seeing the far side of my heel, I had to ask my daughter's help. All I could see was a white tiny area that was painful. So we looking at it (mirror for me) and decided it was a wart. A planter's wart. Mike had one so Jeanette had a clue. So we looked in my med books and internet. Found out it is a virus. Well, don't want to bore you with the rest. But we verified it was planter's wart. We know how and why, but not how to get rid of it. To the store to get supply. We get Dr. somebody's patches. Says it takes 12 weeks. Oh, well. You put one on for 2 days. Remove-clean and replace. I did this for 5 weeks. Nothing. Only action I have gotten is my foot is peeling and the patch comes off and floats around in my sock. So decided to give my foot a rest from the patch. And used Compound W on a bandaid. Did not work. Week 8 still nothing going on with the patch except it is still running around in my sock. So had a few home remedies. Tried the duct tape. Put on..peel off the next day. Nothing. Crushed garlic. Tried it for a week. Less painful. Smelt like garlic. (Didn't tell Ken when he mention the smell, that is was from his jar of crushed garlic that he uses for cooking). Back to the patch. Heel and foot still peeling. Stop using everything. Heal the foot from peeling. And called the Dr. for an appointment. Now listen close as this will save you the money for supplies and Dr. appointments.This is what he did. He shaved the callous off the wart. Telling me if he cut it out it would probably grow back. Freezing isn't any better. So he says the callous is what makes it hurt the most, plus it covers it from the immune system. Shaving off the callous wakes up the immune system to come down and attack the virus. And then he sends me home to do something. A procedure.Place this patch on the foot. Keep there for 6 days. Take off. Leave it off for the day. Then that night scrap off the wart top. Then place a fresh patch. Do this 4 times and the wart will be gone. Now this patch, cost is little to nothing as you have it in your junk drawer. No laughing. It is duct tape. I said no laughing.!!! So got planter wart?? Get a scrapper and duct tape. Wear for 6 days. Let it air out for 8 hours and scrap and put on fresh duct tape. There I have saved you the $48.00 Dr. visit plus all the other supplies. Now you want to know does it work?? Ask me in 5 and half weeks....Well, 5 weeks later, I went to the Dr. and he froze it off and knock knock knock on wood, 2 years later I am still in fine condition. Now before you go off thinking this is foolish.. I have to tell you I have met 4 people who say the duct tape worked for them. So try it out... then if it doesn't work, go to the Dr. and if he suggest that.. tell him you already tried that. And if you are one of the lucky ones, you won't have to go to the Dr. And if not, then you at least get to cut out one of the doctor visits. Good luck...

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

I got this for an e-mail today.... and hope it isn't against the rules to forward it by blog. ButI could not come up with these words any better. It hits the nail so square on the head. I wish I did know who wrote this... so I could tell her THANK YOU for the words wisdom. Thank you my friend Alice, for sending it to me.

OLD AGE The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction,she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body- the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt.And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long. I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don'tchide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avantegarde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon;before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 a.m, and sleep until noon?I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old. I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten - and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say "no", and mean it. I can say "yes", and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong. So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day.Author unknown!

Monday, March 21, 2005

I was going to name this the minority to the majority…. But I think a better name is the Portuguese connection.

Last week was St.Patrick’s Day. They say no one is a prouder bunch. And so I don’t offend the Irish, that is largely true. But mostly they are just louder about it. Everyone celebrates St. Patrick’s Day, not only the Irish but the wanna be’s too. On Dave O’s blog the subject came up, of what nationality are you. Only a few were full blooded of any one type. Myself, included. I am quite comfortable in my own mixed nations. My father was English and Swedish and my mother was English and German. I have traits of all 3. The staunchness of the English. The backbone of the German. The tenderness of the Swedish. Which makes me a complex person. But the one nationality that I learn the most from was the majority that surrounded me as a child. I learn compassion, and passion about things and people. I learn great work ethic. That nationality is the Portuguese.

I was raised on a large island in Rhode Island, called Aquickneck. Island. Which consist of 3 different towns. Newport, which most people have heard of thru the media. That was on the ocean side with a bay on each side. On the opposite end was Portsmouth, all farm land when I was a child. And in the middle of all this was applicably named Middletown.Newport was made up of Irish, (police officers, doctors, lawyers, and hardware stores)Italians, (police officers, fishermen, blacksmiths, and gardeners.) There were Jewish (they have the first Synagogue in the United States) (who were lawyers, trades men of all kinds, vegetable and fruit stores, and etc.) There were others of many trades and nationality. And then in Middletown, Portsmouth and Jamestown a little island off of Aquickneck, were the Portuguese. They were and are, farmers (a good share of them were.) fishermen, shop owners, worked civil service, as Newport was a Naval Base. One of the trades got lost in the years and came back a few years ago, because no one could compete. Stone men. They made the famous stone walls that are in that area. Stone walls are land marks, dividing ones land from another. Most of them are 100 years or more. You can’t find harder workers than the Portuguese men.The start of my connection was with my neighbor. A little girl who was a year younger than myself. We were really the only kids on the block for many years. I say block because the first half mile out side of Newport, on the Middletown side was residential. The rest was farms and Naval base. The parents of this little girl, Madeline and Manual Perry. Now before you think I might get sued for this… Madeline and Manual were as common names as John, Bill and Perry, well they cover half a page in the phone book. But I don’t think they will be upset with my talking about them. They were wonderful people. Manny (as most Manual’s were called) worked for one of the estates in Newport, he was a landscaper. Madeline was a stay at home mom. Which most were in those days. Their daughter was an only child. Madeline had the most wonderful smelling kitchen. But then most Portuguese women do. She also had a wicked sense of humor. She is taller than all her sisters by at least 4 inches. And she told Barbara and I that she got that way, because her mother told her if she was going to be tall she had to stand in cow manure for 10 minutes a day. Which she did. And that is how she got to be tall. I never did get to know the truth. They were a very loving family. And I thought Madeline was the most beautiful woman. And when I went back about 10 years ago, I stopped in to see them. And she is still beautiful. And when I told her this, she blushed just as she use to.The next was school. I went to 3 different schools as I progressed thru the grades. The first one was a good share of Navy personnel children. The second was half and half, Navy and Portuguese. The third was one was ¾ Portuguese, as the Navy was starting to down size some what. It was just before the Korean war. Sorry, policing.My best friends were Portuguese from 6th grade on thru high school. I would walk from our house on the edge of the Newport/Middletown to Rogers High School that was in the middle of Newport at that time. It was on a summer day, on a weekend, as I walked home from town that I heard this lively music, but in a foreign language. It was better than the rock and roll that had started at that time. It was the Portuguese festival at Jesus Savior Church. On the side they were having their summer festival. The music was wonderful and the food was the best. One of my school friends grabbed me and said come on…I told her I had to be home soon. (my folks were real sticklers for that) but I walked thru with her to see. The colors, the smells and music.A few years later, I think I was a senior, and one of my friends who lived not to far away, who had a horse like mine and was a school friend, invite me to Christmas mass at Jesus Savior Church. It was a wonderful experience. I was an Episcopalian, which we jokingly use to refer to being a rejected Catholic, as we did all the ups and downs on your knees and sing that the Catholic did. But the Catholic was so much more than my church had. Ours seem so much more older, drab in comparison.My connection, is…My aunt Florence, married to my Uncle Richard. You could not go to their house with out eating. And remember what I told you about their kitchens. She would be offended if you did not eat anything. She would have a full meal in that refrigerator, ready in case some one came. There were sandwiches, there were desserts, and cookies and coffee. My Aunt Florence was a sweetheart.My sister in law, married to my only brother. They will celebrate I think 38 years of marriage. Her mother had the same kind of love of family as Florence did. And everyone was welcome to their place. They had a swimming pool later in life. Had swimming suits so you wouldn’t miss out.My daughter in law, who spoils me rotten. Poor thing is married to one of my twin sons. But the salt of the earth. Family is the major thing. She makes me feel just as important as her side of the family. I got to meet her grandfather and grandmother several years ago in R.I. What a wonderful couple. And of course walking into their house… the smell in the kitchen… and can I get you something to eat.Then of course, with a daughter in law, I get two grandchildren who are Portuguese.And friends… so many friends….And then in 1999, the final connection… my husband Ken. His mother was a wonderful little spitfire that was 4 foot 8 inches, full of laughter, compassion and passion.And of course, a dang good cook, which she passed on to her son Ken and the rest of the family. So thank you, Alvernaz’s , Sanchez’s, Sanches’s , Perry’s Rose’s Viera’s Sylvia’s and Silva’s Cardoza’s, Roderick’s, Rodriguez, Santo’s Arruda’s, Rego’s Raposa, Oliveira, Nunes, Pine’s, Souza’s and all the rest … Thank you for showing me what hospitality is really like, what love of life is really like, what passion and compassion for life and people.Like I said, I am comfortable with my own nations, but if I had to chose a wannabeIt would be the Portuguese…..Soupa anybody? Make sure the linguica and kale is in it.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Was that you Marianne, who pulled that snow clouddown to Kootenai level? I went to bed to the newsof snow in mountains..3000 level. Rain below that.So I am thinking rain coat for my walk.Kootenai is at 1500, I am guessing.Way under the forecast. I woke to no snow in mydriveway and dusting on my lawn. As I left anhour later, there was an inch. On my walk backmy footprints are gone. And as I walked up tomy yard, I could see it was missing somethingI didn't get to do this year. It was missing ..a snowman!! So with what little energyI had left.. I built one. 3 of my favorite thingsto do in the snow. Make snowman (use to getmy kids up at 1 or 2 am to go out with me ona weekend. to make our snow men) second ismake an angel. (didn't do one today, no one topull me up, and webble wobbles don't makegood angels, when they try to get up) and third,is getting dangerous to do... make ice cream. Mykids really did love snow ice cream. But now daysyou really have to live way out to make ice cream.Living in town where there are dogs and cats runningamuck, you really do have to watch out forthe yellow snow. Even making a snowmancan be hazardous. We don't have a dog, but ouryard seems to be...the neighborhood dog litter box.Got to invest in a fence.Well, enjoy the snow, it is suppose to rain thisafternoon... unless they lied.And remember we need this... and will appreciateit in August.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Today I started my walk earlier. My walkingpartner is out of town.But today, it was colder. As yesterdaywe had a lot of wind, and somerain. And the mountains have snow.So today as I am walking withmy St. Pat's Day shirt, (ithas a Shamrock on it witha smiley face), I listen to Cajunmusic. It was as close toIrish as I had in my collection.As I view the area, I amprivileged to see, I feel sohappy to be living where I do.I could see from Baldy Mt.to Schweitzer Mt. There wasthe grey of the shadows ofclouds on the mountains, yet on the peaks of both wassunshine.You could see the freshsnow of last night. Wehave not had any forsome time. And in thevalley between the twomountains I see the snowon the trees and the sunshinethat flowed across the valleyfrom one top to the other top.So Happy St. Patrick Dayto all of you American'sof Irish descent.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

My daughter told me last night that I was the meanest Mom. She was joking with me, of course. At least I hope she was.Yes, she was. We were talking about how horrible I was, as she and her siblings stood up in the back seat, no seat belts and no car seats. (now before all the mothers unite to tar and feather me.... they didn't have seat belts in cars when my kids were little). Guess she doesn't remember my yelling at them to sit down. But she went on about how they could have been mere missiles had any one crashed into us.And then she went on into the days of our pickups. Just sit down and hang on, she said was all the instructions they got. That they would be bounced all over the pickup as we went down the country roads. That had she fell out it couldn't have been any worse than bumping against the spare tire and wheel wells. She doesn't mention that her siblings were there with her and if I recall right, she had to sit between two of them, much to their disgust, as they thought she should fend for herself, like they had to. Also, funny, I remember being in the back with them. And we sang songs, that is when we weren't yelling at my husband to at least miss some of the bumps and pot holes.And then there was the fighting over who got to sit near the windows. And general yelling and stuff that kids do. And many, many times we sat on the side of the road. No, we weren't having car trouble. I was having kid trouble. I refuse to drive another mile until it was quiet in the car. Also I remember this sweet darling who was complaining about me, who I dearly love.... when she said her stomach was hot, well, you never saw a station wagon find a way across 4 lanes of traffic in such a hurry. And the mother jump out of the car, open the back door and almost throwing my darling daughter out. Because a hot stomach meant I had exactly 40 seconds to get her out of the car, or it was upchuck time.Yep, I was the most horrible mom... I am sure the rest of them can fill you in on other horrible times in their lives. When I wanted to know exactly where they were. Who they were with. And made sure they were. And made them eat the meals, of veggies, salads, and meats. Made them wash their hands and do chores. Yep, I was Mom the ogre.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Four years ago, I decided that being Kenny was gone with his friend for the day at a auction...I should do 2 of many projects we have talked about. One dealt with the kitchen and the other dealt with my "Some Day Soon Room" (some day soon we will go thru this junk and organize our good stuff).So off to K-Mart, I go to gather my work objects. Shelves for the S.D.S. room and paint for the kitchen.Now let me tell you about projects. #1 rule should be never ever do a project alone. Yes, I know there are the super duper gals on the home improvement channels who do everything... so you think. After all she, too, has people helping. Also how do you know the guys don't remove those nails and screws after off screen and put them where they really belong. And actually I do know a few gals who do an excellent job of remodeling their homes. Not just painting and the easy stuff either. One is my cousin, and the other is my neighbor. But I don't ask my neighbor, don't want to be embarrassed by my stupidity.Why you say do you need a partner in crime? Well, for one thing you need that person to talk you out of doing the project, that you probably have no business doing. But if you have daffy friends like I do..... that doesn't work. So the next thing you need a partner for, is to have some one to blame it on when things go wrong. Or at the very least to share the blame. Blaming totally really cuts down on your list of friends quick. No sense of humor. The share blame ones are good.See 25+ years ago I had one of the best of those. We were the Lucy/Ethel, if we felt old. Or Laverne and Shirely, if we felt young. Who was who depend on whose project it was. We used crooked nails that we spent hours straighten. Went to the hardware store to make sure we got Roslyn (the town we lived in that was built by miners) parts. See our town was known for its backwards plumbing, so you had to ask for Old Roslyn, if you lived in one of the older houses. Then she meet this guy who became her husband and he wouldn't let us straighten nails out. We had to use new ones. And we had a hard time breaking him in to Roslyn plumbing. So he married her and took her away to Seattle where I hear they have normal plumbing and straight nails.So here I am 500+ miles away and 25+ years older. Sorry to say not any smarter.See, I decided because this was a metal cabinet I should use spray paints. Ok, all of you people who know better and are saying STUPID... hit the delete button now. See I don't need to hear that from you all... I live with some one who says that to me. All the time. At least every time I do a project. Some times he says it politely and some times it comes out WHAT THE HELL EVER POSSESSED YOU TO DO THAT? And he mumbles a lot too.Anyway, I put the newspapers on the floor and I shut newspapers in the top of the bottom doors. Decided to only do the bottom doors. (God does watch over dumb people) and I draped them back over the drawers to the top of the sink. Ok. Everything is covered.Well.. I had handles. Some one told me if you take Crisco and smear it on chrome or glass then paint over it... it is easy to get the paint off as it comes off with the Crisco. I didn't have any ..so I figured bacon grease should do just as well. Did I hear you say STUPID? hit the delete button.. Told you I already have a guy who can say that.Ok. I am ready to go. Shake the can. Shake shake shake, geesh, my wrist hurts, shake. Hit the button and and slowly it starts to cover, as I was told to go slow and stay back 18". I don't want runs. So back and forth I go. 2 cans and the seven doors are done. Got a paper I hold on the wall so I don't get that. Which went well until I got to the other side and forgot and flipped over the paper. Spot of paint on wall. Hurry and washed it off. Stood back to see if I missed any places. Oh, the side edges. Spray here... spray there. Beginning to have visions of when I use to cut my kids bangs. You know a little here and then there and then there and then here. But then I step back ...OH, MY GOD....there is light spray of paint all over the floor behind me. Spray back? What ever. Grab paper towels, 409, and hot water. Yes, it comes off. But it is all over. So I am mopping... and washing... pot lids on the baker shelf... Clean and clean... Some how I think it is going to be like pine needles in July. I will see light blue everywhere forever.Then I go to the Some Day room while that dries. That job went really well. Put on Village People, In the Navy (Hey, I have my music which helps me clean and you have yours) and off I went taking all the boxes and every thing else. Put the shelves together. Snap together kind. Run to K-mart get see thru boxes and the fun begins. What do I need and what can I throw away. Luckily only 4 boxes were mine. Other 10 where Ken's HAHAHA.... And really it did come out very well. Except I have 2 bags and one box of papers to go thru to figure out what is still needed and burn the rest. Went back to see the kitchen. UUUUGGGHHHH....... IT IS EASTER EGG BLUE..... OR A BAD 1970'S UTENSILS BLUE.... HORRIBLE. They said sky blue.... The more the evening went on and then the next day... I could not take it anymore. I went back to the store. Got regular enamel gloss paint. And a pad thing-a-ma-jig and painted it. Removed handles this time. By the way bacon grease does not do it. But it did hold down the mess a little. Guess you got to use the real stuff. Got waterfall blue. It is really nice. I have painted the drawers white with the same kind of paint. Did good. Now I am thinking maybe I will use one of those hobby kits to make a gingham pattern on the drawers.... who knows... But it has been a nice adventure... Heck I have not had this much fun since Roslyn... LOL LOL...

Monday, March 14, 2005

There are many crossing of the line. . There is the one as a child, that you cross over on a dare.God draws lines, in our lives. Some of which we kick forward. Because we aren't ready to cross over. Some in denial that the line is there.

That is the line of today's subject.

This the life of Mom and Son. That will be their names in this.Mom is going to be 70 next month. Son is 40 or maybe 42.Son is mentality challenged. Son has been in a home situation for about 20 years, I am guessing. There was a divorce, many years ago. and Mom and Dad would alternate getting Son for the weekends over the years. Son has always been a tender hearted caring person. And I would be guessing that Son's mentality is in the 13/14ish stage. For years this life worked for all three.But about 6 years ago Son came down with a virus that took a large toll on him. He was hospitalized for months. He was in a coma like situation for almost all those months. This was virus that went around the United States. Very few survived. One of which was my ex-boss. They try to put a name to the virus, but as far as I know there still isn't one. It is similar the to one down South that some Indians Reservations had. But not that one. It hits the upper respiratory area. Son was lucky enough to live in a city that has an excellent hospital that is also a teaching hospital. The down side for Son was it left him with a breathing problem. He had to be on oxygen for 24 hours for several years. Now he can be with out it a good share of day time. But has it at night. After the hospital, Son lived with Mom until he got stronger. Then he went back to the home he was in before. And started on a slow climb back to the life he had before. But Son had some problems and ended up having the family remove him from the home. The long and short of this, is he is now in a institution that he can leave from time to time. Usually on weekends. It is a behavior unit. As Son was having some anger management problems. It was thought by family and caretakers (Dr.and caseworker) that this would be best for Son. Thru the therapy he could work on the anger. There was an episode that Son became very angry at Mom and had hit her.At the new facility Son seem to be doing well. They were working on the anger. He had a couple of chest pain scares and was in and out of the hospital a couple of times. Just days at a time. Mom was bringing things that Son likes. And takes him home for the weekends when he was allowed. As Son did not earn the right to visit on one occasion.You have to understand that Mom has been a great Mom. She has taken Son to dinners at restaurants. She has taken him to the lake shore cabins for holidays and summer outings. She always has made sure Son has had everything he needs. She has put his needs ahead of hers for many years. Even to the point of going against her other children's wishes from time to time. Her daughter is very supportive of Son. Even though she lives over 1,000 miles away. She calls and visits. Son is loved by his brothers (there are 3) and always happy to see him. But they live busy lives so they don't visit very often. Dad loves his son but he has been busy with his life as well, with his new wife and business.

So where does the line come in this life?There was another episode with Son. While he did not hit his mother, there was a verbal confrontation, which scared Mom so very much that she ended up calling the police. It had to do with Son being upset with Mom because he wanted to call 911 and she asked him not to. She wanted to see if she could take care of the health problem he was talking about and if not then she would drive him to the hospital herself. He became very angry and yelled cuss words at her. Words that she never had heard out of his mouth before. The police officer who came over, had been there the 2 years before when Son had gotten out of control. Son likes him and the visit went well. But when the police officer left... Son anger started up again and this time called 911 when Mom's back was turned. She let it go thru this time. And the paramedic's took him in. Mom's oldest son, was in the neighborhood and saw the lights. Came and asked what happen. When explained, he looked at Mom and said. "Maybe from now on, you should not take Son out and just visit him at the facility." Then the ambulance left and she followed over to see if Son was going to be ok. When they got him settled, she went home. But the words of her oldest son cut thru her heart. How could she leave Son? And there is the line.... when do you stop kicking the line forward..... and when do you cross it? I tried to reassure her that visiting is not abandonment. She could visit as often as he would like. Take special treats. And if the day is not a good day for Son, then she can go home. It is real easy to see the situation from 3000 miles away. I support her in any position she takes, as it is her position. But she asked. How do you tell another person where their line is and should you tell them to stop kicking the line and step over?

Friday, March 11, 2005

Got up today and looked in the mirror after I combed my hair. And discovered that I now look like a Princess... Not Diane.. but the future Princess. Camille Parker Bowles.Got to get myself a new hair do..Been growing my hair long after having short hair for 18 years. I have figured it should be long enough to cut in July or August for Lock of Love. Now don't laugh.. they take grey hair too you know. That way they can dye it what color they want.Been on the run today. And still have to go to the dreaded tax person to see if Uncle Sam owes us or do we owe him. So this is short. Leaving a site to go to.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Dave remarked to one of my additions to his comment area, on Mt St. Helen's blowing in 1980, that this would be blog worthy. Don't know if it is or not. But at least it will be a return memory for my kids who read this. At least they better read this...lol...

The story of Harry Truman would be pretty short... as we only talk a short time.It was in 1966, we had taken the kids to Spirit Lake for fishing at the end of June. It was warm enough that they did some swimming after fishing. Then we were ready to head home. My husband at the time, was from Washington state, and we had just moved there about 6 months before. He knew there was snow further up the road, towards the summer resort. So we took the kids up for a treat, after all where can you go swimming one minute and a few minutes later be playing in the snow. So when we got to the snow edge, we let the kids out to play. I was close to having # 5 child. While we were playing in the snow, a gentleman came down the drive way to the road where we were at and introduced himself as the cabin's owner. Harry Truman. We talked about how beautiful of a day it was. And he was getting ready for the 4th of July push of tourist. He talked about the hiking and how close it was to the lake for the people. We asked him if they were open in the winter. He said they didn't get many in the winter. Mostly cross country skiers. And not many of them, so they were not officially open. But that he and his wife stayed there. Then we thanked him for his time,and gathered up the kids. He said good bye as he return to his work, and told us good luck with the new addition we were expecting. He was very nice and sweet man. I would say he was about 60 ish at the time. The next time I saw him was on television, while we were in Rhode Island and they were interviewing him about leaving the mountain. I believe his wife had passed away by that time. I wasn't really surprised that he wouldn't leave the mountain, as he had a great love for the area.

The great life of Social SecurityPeople see those in their 70's running around in RV's on TV and think what a wonderful life it is going to be living on Social Security.When in reality those are the exception to the rule and not the rule. Those are people who had IRA's and any one of the regular retirement plans. Some thru their jobs, some they planned on their own. Or who sold their homes, and are living in that RV...24/7. Talk about downsizing.Social Security was not made for people to live on. But in reality it was for the lower income people. When the families were big (5 or more children) there just was not extra money to put to side for a retirement. Bush says he wants to take part of the SS and have it invested. What I have to ask is what is the difference of that and what is today? Unless, it will be a mandatory thing, like the counties do. Most county employee's be it police officers or school districts, have what is called PERSI that is deducted from their wages. This is not a choice. Most of them are about $114 a month. While that makes the wage earners check smaller each month, it is not a bad thing. So is Bush going to force every business to have a PERSI type retirement? If he is going to have it where you are to take the extra (?) money and put it into your own idea of retirement, well, I just don't see that happening. And anyone who has had stock for the past 10 years knows how unreliable they are. Stock started fall way before the 9/11 incident. A good share of it was happening in February before. I have always had the idea that if you want to buy stock, you should have the mentality that you could flush 100's of dollars down a toilet and not flinch. Because it could happen when you buy stock. Company stock, well, just mention Enron to any of those retired employees and you will get your answer there. So far the Social Security in its wobbliness, is the most dependable. But I agree there needs to be changes, to make it stronger. I don't know what the answer is. It would be wonderful if the government agencies who borrow from it over the past 70 years, paid it back..but that isn't going to happen. But making people work longer, does not seem right either. Yes, those at desk jobs or similar will be able to work longer, may even want to. But those of us who are labor workers, who lift with our bodies, well, we just don't have it. I was an nurses aide for 17+ years. But I knew at the end, there is no way I could continue to lift, push, and pull over 100 pounds on a regular basis. Human beings relied on my strength. I would go home at the end of my shift, many mornings (I worked the noc shift) and got together with my friend, Ben. Ben Gay that is. (I wonder will they have to change that name?) Anyway, I would lift, and push, and pull all thru the night, and the last hour of my shift, I was to work even harder than the other 7 hours. By fully dressing, transferring,lifting residents. So I bailed out. For the safety of those who I cared for. Had I had a desk job, I might have gone another 10 years.Also the misconception of the rich on Social Security. I don't know where they are. The ones I know get less than $800 a month. I got just a little over $600, which will be less because Medicare starts next month when I turn 65. Did you know that SS went up the average of $16 in January? Did you know that Medicare went up $12 in January also. So the person on SS and Medicare got a raise of $4. That is the reality of Social Security. So if you are under 55..I suggest you find some way to get into a retirement fund to go with your Social Security. It isn't too late. And if you are one of the lucky ones who work for a company who helps you have a retirement plan, then count your blessings. A lot of companies who are trying to cut back, are looking at cutting their retirement plan.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

I live in a small community.. most drive by and have no idea what is here. We have about 300 people, they say on the sign. But we are growing. 40 more houses in one section.. another annexed in on Monday for about the same amount. They are nice designs. The contractors have gone the extra mile to make them people friendly with bike paths and etc.I like living in this community. I lived here about 5 years before we bought our house. And even with our place being on the edge of the industrial part of the town, it is still a very nice quiet area. We don't have an official block watch. But the old fashion kind. Neighbors who look over at your property and if they see something that is strange, then they will tell you about it. May even take down the license plate of the car that was strange...in case you need it. We don't have a police dept. But the sheriff car does make a round or two occasionally. And they do come when called.So why the "comfy of home disturbed"? Because we have led the life of a small community. Crime is a rarity. It is enough that we get upset when there is some in our community. And that happen this weekend. A couple is remodeling their home. It isn't one of those show type of home. Just a nice home. But someone of the so called adult nature decided after 11 p.m. that they needed the tools of that couple. And a few other supplies. Even took the time to drink a beer, but must have got disturbed as they didn't finish the beer. It wasn't an amateur, as they wore gloves.Now the word is being passed thru the community. And we are angry. Now we have to lock everything. Out come the locks on the sheds, lock up the car at night, and now people are looking into motion lights. We are upset because we have the lack of lights everywhere. If you want to see the stars, just step outside at night. No neon signs, no bright street lights, just one here and there. We are being moved out of our comfort zone, and we are angry at the so called adult, who brings to us the reality of guarding our stuff. Not important stuff, but important to us. What a shame.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

I have admired people who can make things out of stuff that I probably would throw away. Or they can come up with an idea of something, just by looking at the material that is in front of them. I thought I had a pretty good imagination. I can imagine things and stories. But crafts leave me dead at the starting post. Like this past December when I came up with a project for Christmas presents. This is what I wrote to my friends.

In the great spirit of Christmas and my first year of retirement.. and at the push of friends? who seem to think anyone can do crafts if they really tried....I tried. And the greatest gift is one some one made.Well, that is true IF 1. it is a child or 2. Someone who is gifted. It is a boldface lie when it is a adult who crafts something that looks like a child did it. But what do I know, after all my father made some fantastic wood carvings after he retired. My mother was one of the gifted. She could draw anything artist wise. She was a hellva cook. And she knitted some grand sweaters. So from these genes you would think there is a drop in my blood. But yesterday I found out for sure, what I suspected. That the gene hid until my children were born who seem to have all the talents of fore mention parents. Yes, it is true that I did a fairly good job sewing western shirts and vest when my children were young. I did them for my husband Marvin, a friend Mac, my son's and Jeanette. Made my first reversible vest for Will. Nice dark brown cord, with elk on the inside. Or the other way around if he wore it that way.Although Jeanette said I scarred her for life because I sent her to school in a homemade western shirt. Not because it was homemade......but because the material had orange hippo and green elephants.So two days ago, always the procrastinator, I started my attempt at Christmas present hand made. I was making...bags that you hang on a door knob or what ever and you put your grocery plastic bags in. And door draft stoppers. Now that seems innocent enough.Sewing machines and I don't get along very well, so I sew with my grandmother's or great grandmother's 1912? portable Singer machine. This machine is suited to me... it goes forward and back. That is my sewing mentality. I cut out the material to what I wanted. The sewing went pretty well. Nothing great but fair. Until I decided to make a neck pillow for a friend. I sewed that puppy back and forth. Around that baby I went because I didn't want it to leak. 4 times around. Got the picture? I left a small hole to fill it up with. Then as I look at my handy work...it dawns on me..... the small hole? Well, it isn't big enough to turn this baby inside out. Small little detail I missed as I swung around that last corner on my fourth round. So what to do... I decide to just cut the top off. Turn it around. And then sewed a ribbon on the top for the closure. I look at my work, as my grandson walks in and says, who are you making shorts for, they sure are small? As this is in a U shape. The ribbon looked awful!!. I tried to unstitch it. Wasn't going well....cut off with scissors. I have had enough of this.. put stuff away until the next day, as tempers are rising...Not good sewing time.The next day I wake up and look at all the draft stoppers that are sewed and thought well, I will get going on the filling. Luckily I thought enough to fill these over the sink. I decided to use barley as it is cheaper than rice and I couldn't find wheat hulls. First stopper went pretty well. Of course, a little spillage. Then sewed the end up and one draft stopper done. Not bad... It is the short one. Then went to the long ones. Using the funnel and bowl with lip, I pour the barley in and down the funnel it goes... not bad, and of course a little spillage (yes, you can see where this is going). Fill up the bowl again..oops, the rice, just a little from the bag, leaked on the counter. Then filled up to the top and sew. Nicest and heaviest snake I ever saw with bear and moose on it. Then 2 more to go... They went like the second one.. except #4...spilled on the table a little as I am sewing it. Tried to shove the barley back in as I sewed... SNAP...goes my needle.. Found another needle, but it doesn't want to work. Well, no biggie, sew by hand. And it turn out pretty well. So I am left with the bag holders and THE NECK PILLOW. The bag holders went well. Finally settling on elastic for a loop for hanging. The the PILLOW... I sew the top by hand. Back and forth... this thing is going to hold barley so can't have leakage. Finally it looks pretty good. Go to fill it. The funnel would not fit. Hole is too small. I found a smaller funnel that would fit. BUT it would only take about 8 piece of barley at a time, my patience's doesn't do 8 pieces at a time. So got to figure out something else. I find some Styrofoam cups and cut it so I can curl it, fit the bigger funnel in, and start pouring barley... it is slow by steady, until about midway. It fell over, spilling barley on the floor. But I got it up(no, I didn't put it in the pillow, althought have to admit I thought about it... hate waste) and got it done and sewed it. Looks pretty good... looks like at least a 10 year old did it. I look around..... barley everywhere. I had tracked it into the living room as well.So I start the clean up. About 2 pounds in the sink... 3 on the floor and 1 on the counter... The buzzer is going off on the dryer... my husband walks in... looks at the mess.......he knows not to ask questions... looks at the pillow.. "interesting" he says.... Now the real test. I am giving the pillow to one of the friends who suggested that homemade gifts are the best. WE SHALL SEE....Well, got to go..... clean up more barley.... I think this stuff is going to haunt me... like christmas fir needles that you find in July. So continue making your crafts, and I will appreciate them, but I don't think I will be joining you, thank you.The update of this, is that everyone said they liked my "gifts". I wonder where they keep them until I come over, ha ha...So you see, others look at a blank piece of paper and see ..... airplanes, snow flakes, and all kinds of things... I see a blank piece of paper and wonder what can I write on it... or it is just a blank piece of paper.So see you at the arts and craft shows of the year.... I will love your crafts...

Monday, March 07, 2005

Is it because it is Monday, or lack of sunshine... but having a little bit of trouble getting started.I start my day out with a mile or so walk with a friend. We decided this would be good for both of us. Her, for arm therapy (moving her arm as she walks) and surely we both need it for exercise. It has helped my breathing a great deal.When we first started, I felt like some one took my lungs out and dried them and put them back. But each day it is better. Of course my neighbors probably laugh as they watch me go off on my walk and return. I walk down the street like a tune, something out of Rocky in my mind. Returning almost an hour later (we talk a lot) looking like the action for what kind of fool am I.But today, it was drizzle out before I left. Should I stay in...nah, like the postman, thru drizzle, rain, snow and etc. Yea, right. But it wasn't raining so no excuse... and my friend would be waiting. And knew she would raz me if I was a no show. It was on the walk over to our meeting place, that it dawn on me how much difference there is in a sunshine day. The feel good no matter what, because it is sunshine. Making sunshine in our souls as well.Well, got to get going... it is Monday, wash day, and etc. Also I have a cat called Rokon. Rokon is not exactly like all cats. Other peoples cat sit on the newspaper as you try to read. Rokon sits on my shoulder, tries to play with the cursor and anything else she can do to distract me.Well, may the sunshine come out and brighten up your soul.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Am I the only one who is blown away with the jumping of the gas prices?They say they are going to raise 25 cents this week.Heck I remember when gas was 19 cents and they raise it TO 25 cents!And we all said we were going to walk and only drive one day a week. ha haof course we lived in a very small town so that wasn't a big deal.But we thought we would teach them a lesson... some lesson... they arecharging $2.00 more now.